


If Wishes Were Horses, Then Beggars Would Ride

by Pollydoodles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 17:11:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7626970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pollydoodles/pseuds/Pollydoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Peggy's funeral, broken and torn, Steve asks something of Wanda that he shouldn't. <br/>Wanda gives him more than he asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Wishes Were Horses, Then Beggars Would Ride

“Be her.”

She looks at him, not in confusion, because even through the broken voice and the tears that she can see forming in the corners of his eyes, she knows what it is that her Captain is asking of her. What she’s not sure about is whether she ought to do as he’s asking. 

As he’s demanding. 

Wanda looks up at Steve from where she’s knelt on the floor in front of him, he curled over on himself sat on the edge of his bed and fists clenching as they rest against his temples. The dark suit that he is wearing is crumpled, the jacket hanging open and his tie slightly askew. His hair, so neatly brushed that morning, is now dishevelled and all over the place. 

His blue eyes are storm-filled, and she can practically taste the emotions that are rolling off him. She’s perceptive, too perceptive, to the moods of others. It’s part of her enhancement and the part she’s struggled with the most to keep contained. The part that she fears, when she’s alone at night in the empty space of a too-large bed, the part that she knows will take her sanity eventually. 

Roll too close to the edge of the storm, and you risk being swept away with it. 

Her hesitation is minute, and fleeting. She knows, in the back of her mind, that this is probably a bad idea. Maybe the worst idea. That the Captain will almost certainly regret it later and worse than that, far worse - that she herself might not regret it at all. 

She also knows that she will always do as he commands her. 

Wanda reaches into his mind, knocking aside with ease the fragile defences that exist there, and plucks from his memories a snapshot in time. A glorious, technicolour memory that bursts with colour and, above all else, with love. He does not direct her to it, does not need to in all honesty. It’s sat there within in his mind like it’s on a pedestal. 

She regards it carefully, soaking in the details and memorising them for herself. The dark curls, the set of her chin, the way that the dress curves around her body - so different from Wanda’s own. A body from a different time, indeed. 

When she blinks and looks up at him again from the outside, rather than from where she’s been perusing the inside of his head, it is from eyes a darker shade than her own. When he looks at her and his jaw goes slack, it is not Wanda he is looking at anymore. 

“Peggy…”

He reaches to touch her, is hesitant, and Wanda brings his hand the last few inches to settle on her waist. His hand is large and there’s a heat there with it that Wanda is unfamiliar with. He’s touched her before, of course, Steve is a tactile man who cares for his team above almost all else. But now, in his room with his emotions bursting from him like lightning and static, even just this hand against her waist holds so much more.

Because it’s not Wanda Maximoff he’s looking at. 

She sits up on her knees and he pulls her between his open legs, bolder now and with his other hand cupping her face. She sucks in a deep breath and reminds herself that this is a favour, that this is something she is doing to help ease the pain he’s feeling right now.

Because she can feel that pain, oh yes. It’s running through him like a current, head to toe and threatening to overtake anything else he’s feeling. Except - and she can reach out and touch it, if she likes, if she dares - there’s something almost as strong running underneath the pain. 

Desire. Want. Passion. Need. 

Steve shudders, bringing his forehead close to hers and resting them together. His hand is carding through her hair now - no longer long and messily tousled, but much shorter and set properly into neat, dark curls. Wanda closes her eyes and takes a breath to steady herself. His hand grips tighter on her waist before tracing upwards slowly, and Wanda bites down on her lower lip hard as his thumb brushes against the curve of her breast. 

She can taste the coppery flood of blood as she bites too hard, trying to ground herself. Her hands are on his thighs and subconsciously she squeezes hard, digging her fingernails into the muscles there that tense and flex under her touch. He groans under his breath, mouth open slightly and lips wet against her forehead. 

Wanda closes her eyes, and reaches out with her mind to touch that flash of desire that flickers within Steve. 

It bursts into colour, almost blinding her and she grasps at his legs again whilst she blinks her eyes open, before remembering it’s a sensation only she can see. But Steve can feel it, now she’s kicked the proverbial door down and set it free, and his hand is bolder now, cupping her breast and rolling his thumb across it, peaking her nipple and teasing it. 

She looks up at him and his eyes are half-closed but his mouth is open. When he sees her looking, there’s a determined expression that passes over his face momentarily before he hauls her upwards from the floor and firmly into his lap. His mouth is on hers, hungry and hot, tongue seeking an entrance that she can’t help but give him. 

Wanda moans into his embrace, and his hands are all over her, touching, searching, pushing and squeezing. She can feel him below her, hard and excited, pushing up against the apex of her legs and she spreads them as wide as she can over his lap, sinking down against him. 

Steve growls low in her ear and jerks up against her, suit trousers straining over his erection. Wanda grinds down over it and her breath catches in her throat as she feels him hard between her legs. She’s wet, embarrassingly so, and the feel of him right there, even with her panties and his trousers in the way, is only increasing it. She pushes at his jacket and he shrugs it off, throwing it behind him and laying back on the bed so that she’s balanced atop him. 

Steve rolls his hips, panting, and Wanda closes her eyes as his erection jerks into her again, pushing up into her and she scrambles with shaking fingers to pull her damp panties to one side, pausing only to squeeze against his cock. He gasps out a curse that sounds harsh in the otherwise quiet of his room, and then his hands are on hers, knocking them away and tearing down his zipper. 

Wanda’s hands somehow shove down the waistband of his trousers, and his underwear with them, and Steve’s hands are at her hips holding her just above him as she hauls them down as far as she can manage. He guides her back onto him, and the thick blunt head of his cock nudges against the slick between her legs, seeking entrance. 

She can’t help but arch her back like a cat and rub against him, feeling him slide along her and jostle against her entrance. Steve’s hands are once again on her breasts, but this time they’re up and under her shirt, pulling at her bra until they spill from the lace and are free to eager fingers. 

He curls upwards, roughly pushing up her shirt until her skin is bared to him, nipples peaking from the cool air as much as from the way his fingers are dancing across them. Steve flicks his tongue across first one and then the other, before taking it into his mouth and sucking. It’s Wanda’s turn to curse, under her breath and reminding herself at the last minute with a superhuman effort to do so in English and not Sokovian. 

Steve had one hand on her left breast as he fondles it and guides his tongue around and around her nipple, and the other hand sneaks south, finding it’s way to his cock for a quick pump and then between her legs. 

She gasps against his ear and falls forward as two fingers breach her, still a shock for all the slick that’s gathered there. His fingers are thick like the rest of him, and he crooks them inside her whilst he’s thrusting them, grazing against a sensitive spot that has her nearly seeing stars. 

Steve’s hips are moving almost of their own accord, and his cock is bumping up against where his fingers are buried deep inside her. His head has fallen back onto the mattress now, her breasts swinging in front of him with both nipples hard and sensitive. His eyes are half-closed and his tongue swipes along his lower lip. Wanda can’t help but bend down over him and suck his lip into her mouth, capturing him in a kiss that leaves them both breathless when they pull away. 

“Want-” He can’t find the words to finish it, but his hips roll and jerk against her, his cock nudging between her legs and Wanda feels a fresh wave of excitement overtake her at the feel of it. She wonders for a hot, heavy moment whether he’s intending to take her like this with his fingers still deep inside her, and finds that she doesn’t care if he does. 

But he pulls his fingers free from her and thrusts up immediately, his slicked hand grasping at the base of his cock to hold it in place as his other hand pulls her hip down onto him. Wanda cries out as he fills her, both ready and not ready for the stretch that he forces onto her. Steve’s head lolls back as he sighs in pleasure, and brings his fingers to his mouth but not before he runs them from where his cock is buried, up and up and circling across her until she’s shaking from the sensation. 

He sucks on his fingers, licking them clean, and Wanda slowly starts to ride him, undulating her body against his. Steve seems happy to lay back and watch her, so she finds herself with free hands, his gripping against her thighs and fingertips digging into her soft flesh as her skirt rides up. 

She pulls her shirt off entirely as she moves, pumping herself up and down on his cock. Her breasts are still on show, her bra pulled down enough that it’s doing a good job of pushing them upwards even more than it would usually. Wanda runs her hands over her breasts, tweaking and playing with her head thrown back, and she can feel Steve hard inside her. 

He groans loud and long, and with a powerful thrust and twist of his body, arms wrapped around her, Steve’s suddenly over her and jackhammering his way into her. Wanda wraps her legs around his narrow waist and strives to meet his thrusts as best she can. He pins her to the mattress, driving in and out with his face pressed to her chest and his mouth sucking across the pale skin he finds there. 

She arches up against him, with her hands around his neck, grinding down where she can and her breath stoppering in her chest as he moves inside her. Steve’s mouth is against her neck now, wet and open, making soundless words over her skin as she writhes beneath him. Without warning, his arm is looping under her and pulling her up, his cock still inside her. She clutches at him, eyes closing a little as she sinks down onto him further with the change in angle, and she can feel him smile against her throat. 

He backs off the bed, feeling his way blindly with her wrapped around him, stepping back until he hits the wall. When he feels the solid surface behind him, he turns and Wanda’s the one pressed up against it, Steve thrusting into her with deliberate jerks of his hips. The angle works for her, far more than with him bent over her on the mattress, and she rolls her head back against the wall as he catches her in the right place. 

His groin shifts against her and she moves against him, pinned between the wall and the hard planes of his body. Impaled upon him and feeling every inch of his cock as it slides within her, Wanda can feel the edge of her orgasm rushing towards her. She digs her fingernails into his shoulders in a wordless message she hopes he’ll understand means don’t stop, and Steve mercifully speeds up.

Wanda comes around Steve’s cock with a cry that’s louder than she really intended, shaking and shuddering against him as her body trembles out the last of her orgasm. Steve grunts, still thrusting into her and it’s sensitive as he does it but she can’t find anything within her to tell him to stop. 

“M’gonna… I can’t,” His voice is a little broken as his cock twitches inside her, and Wanda gets a clearer picture when she reaches into his mind of what he means. He can’t come inside her, though he desperately wants to. She’s been riding him bare and it’s stupid, she knows, but then again no decision she’s made so far today has been particularly clever. 

With effort, she pushes against him, until he’s sliding out of her with a cock that’s slick and red and hard. Steve looks a little unfocused as he stands back, and Wanda slithers to her knees in front of him. He’s looking down at her in a little confusion, which clears right up when she wraps her mouth around him. 

One hand slams against the wall, making it shake behind her, as she sucks him down as far as she’s able to take him. Steve’s close, and it doesn’t take more than Wanda’s tongue encircling him, warm and wet, with her hand squeezing around the base of his cock before he’s coming down her throat with a strangled cry. 

Wanda swallows it down, chasing the last of it over her lips before she licks over the head of his cock as well. Steve’s leaning above her, forehead against the wall and chest heaving as his heart rate tries to return to normal. 

She stands, awkwardly, legs a little shaky and hands fumbling under her skirt to rearrange her panties back to where they should be. They’re damp, soaked through really, and she winces at the feel of them against her because it’s a coarse reminder that she’s done a damn stupid thing this afternoon. 

The mask she was wearing, the woman she’s never met and never will, has slipped away. Wanda’s not entirely sure when it faded, because it wasn’t a conscious decision to let it go. It might have been when she came around Steve’s cock, pinned against the wall and fucking herself down against him; it might even have been when he first thrust up inside her, hard and wanting and Wanda needing it as badly as he did. 

She’ll never know, and she knows him well enough to be sure he’ll never tell her either. 

Steve’s not looking at her, and she touches a hand to his arm gently. He turns then, and focuses on her properly. Wanda doesn’t know quite what to say to him, when he reaches out and loops and arm around her shoulders, drawing her into his chest and resting his chin on top of her head. 

They stay like that for a moment or two before he speaks. 

“Shouldn’t have done that, kid.” 

His voice is low, almost as though his throat has been bruised, and she thinks it might be because he’s trying to hold back his emotion from her. Wanda does not reach out to find out more, reasoning that she’s played around with Steve Rogers’ mind more than enough for one day. 

“Sorry.” She manages, and her voice is rough also, muffled where she’s pressed against his chest. Wanda finds Steve pressing his lips to her forehead in a chaste, almost brotherly, kiss which seems laughable considering all the ways he’s just taken her apart. 

“Don’t be.” He murmurs, lips still pressed against her and his breath warm over her skin. 

Be her. Wanda repeats the words in her head long after she’s slipped from Steve’s room and left him, peeling himself out of his funeral clothes and heading for his shower to wash away the last traces of Wanda from his skin. She has no idea what Steve wanted when he begged that of her, but she knows he didn’t mean to take her in his bed and against his wall, spurting down her throat with a cry and his hand fisting in her hair as she swallowed. 

She knows it can’t happen again. She knows that, as she lays back on her own bed, draws her skirt around her hips and lets her fingers trace the memory of her Captain until she’s shuddering and whimpering out his name into her pillow.


End file.
